Gathering before bingo numbers
fall from lips like golden nuggets 

and rainbow banners celebrate pride 
among parishioners and strangers

waiting, waiting, waiting for the sound
of air lifting and blowing numeric balls

I glance at officials behind the console 
notice the gigantic wooden cross towering

over their shoulders next to flash boards,
listen as the caller mentions each digit twice; 

novice players like me work a single card…
while pros surround themselves with at least

a half-dozen building around the free center space
seeking to blacken out a column and proclaim

Bingo! Bingo! Ding, ding, ding!
Bingo! Bingo! Ding, ding, ding!

dedicating their inflated accomplishment
to God’s glory as other players curse and groan.
                        

Red spaghetti straps graced Adriana’s 
broad sexy shoulders, resting like string
feathers on golden-brown skin enhanced 
with glitter lotion that made her body 
glimmer like the Milky Way in August 
as luminous as Cassiopeia and Venus at night.

Ballroom waltzing segued into steamy tangos
a crimson flash floating across the wooden floor 
turning heads, provoking smiles, tempting
even reserved fundamentalists to reconsider
traditional dance etiquette and appreciate
Adriana’s fluid form and avant-garde steps.

Her essence sparkled like mirror ball reflections 
in a silver sequin galaxy, her modest necklace 
and diamond bracelets refracted footlights
like shooting stars, pulsating energy 
intensifying passion as she danced breast 
to breast with women and men till dawn.